


The War Within

by Cherienymphe



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College Student Peter Parker, Dubious Consent, F/M, Jealousy, Peter Parker has the Venom Symbiote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherienymphe/pseuds/Cherienymphe
Summary: Peter has a new suit...and a new personality to match.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader
Kudos: 40





	The War Within

**Author's Note:**

> Symbiote!Peter

You should’ve known that something was wrong that first night. It was a Wednesday. You had a very important exam the next morning, so you’d gone to bed early instead of waiting for Peter to come through the door of your shared apartment like you normally would. It was one night, and you figured the chances of Peter getting into some trouble were slim. So, with reluctance, you’d called it a night.

You were woken up what felt like hours later by the walls shaking from the force of the door slamming against it. You’d sat up, eyes practically glued shut as you fought to understand what you were hearing. You could hear commotion in the living room, and you only jumped into action when you heard Peter scream, the sound of breaking glass not far behind. It was filled with terror, so gut-wrenching that your heart dropped to your stomach.

You were frantic as you threw the covers off of you, running into the hall just in time to see the bathroom door slam shut behind him. You blinked before the light coming into the apartment from the hall caught your attention. Hurriedly, you went to close the front door and turn on the light. You took in the mess before you, confusion and fear overtaking you.

The coffee table was turned over and a vase had been thrown to the ground. Glass and water littered the wood floor, and your worry grew. Had someone come in the house with him? Was he fighting an attacker…a villain? You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of him screaming again. You ran to the bathroom door, banging on it.

“Peter!”

You were only met with the sound of his grunts and groans, a thud or two reaching your ears.

“Peter,” you called again, gripping the handle.

It was locked.

You shook it and slammed your body against the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Peter!”

You were beyond hysterical at this point. You could hear that he was in pain, and every time he hit the wall, it shook the apartment.

“Peter, please, let me in-!”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as the door abruptly swung open. It was so sudden, how he’d been screaming one minute and the next he was face to face with you, seemingly fine aside from a cut on his cheek. You blinked, stunned for a moment before finally jumping into action. You gripped his arms, eyes wide as you ran them over him.

“Peter, a-are you okay?”

He blinked at you, shaking his head.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Your mouth was parted as you tried to make sense of everything.

“Peter, you… The living room is a mess. I thought that someone came in with you and-.”

“No, God, no,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “I’m fine. My senses, they… I just had a bit of an overload.”

You relaxed, wrapping your arms around him. It wasn’t often, but that would happen sometimes, and even when it did, it was never that bad. Still, you accepted it though.

“When was the last time you slept?” you asked him, pulling away to brush your fingers over the bags under his eye.

“I don’t know,” he sheepishly answered, shrugging.

You sighed, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Peter, you can’t let yourself get like that. I thought an assailant came in here with you, and I-.”

He kissed you, cutting you off as he ran his hands over your arms.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m fine,” he told you.

You eyed him, skeptical.

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, before suddenly swallowing it, eyes wide. “Your exam is tomorrow, oh God! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, Peter-.”

“No, no, I woke you up,” he said, pushing you towards the bedroom.

You paused, and he did too. You frowned, eyeing him again, realizing that he was only in his boxers.

“Where’s your suit?”

“It’s in the tub,” was his immediate response.

“Oh. I can get it for you…”

You moved to go back into the bathroom, but he stopped you, grip tightening. He threw you a small smile.

“It’s fine where it is. _You_ have a test tomorrow, and you need all of the beauty rest you can get,” he told you, kissing your cheek before ushering you into the bedroom.

You looked over your shoulder as you approached the bed, watching as he just stood there, leaning a hand on the wall.

“Are you coming to bed?”

“In a little bit. I want to clean up the mess first,” he softly replied.

You threw him a small smile.

“Okay, well… Don’t take long.”

He hummed at you, and you slid under the covers, head hitting the pillow just as he shut the door.

.

.

.

You glanced over your shoulder, hearing “Spider-Man” thrown around for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It wasn’t uncommon. After all, when you attended the local college in the same city that the masked hero frequented, he was going to be a constant topic of conversation. It didn’t matter that he’d been fighting crime in the city for years. The amazement would never die down.

Hell, you knew who Spider-Man was, had known since your senior year of high school, and even you found yourself still in awe of him. You sometimes found it hard to believe that your best friend turned boyfriend was the superhero who kept your city safe. That the cute nerd who burned your pancakes and woke you up with kisses was the same one kicking the asses of criminals daily.

Still, his name seemed to come up today more than usual. It wasn’t until you entered the student union did you realize why. There was a sizeable crowd gathered around the TVs, looking up in awe as they murmured amongst each other. Your eyes widened, lips parting as you pushed your way through the crowd, disbelief coursing through you.

**Spider-Man sports a new look!**

That was what the headline said, and you watched as the camera followed him as he swung about the buildings. You blinked, trying to comprehend what you were seeing. You had a hard time believing it was Peter swinging around in the onyx suit, but it had to be. Unless there was another person with enhanced abilities just like Peter who was swinging around like some kind of anti-Spider-Man. A frown formed over your features as you backed away, taking out your phone.

You had left Peter a text, and your confusion and worry only grew the longer it went unanswered. The rest of your classes went by smoothly, and you were even sure you had blown your test out of the water. By the time you got back to the apartment, you had forgotten about the whole ordeal entirely. You dropped your bag by the door with a sigh, slipping your jacket off as you made your way to the bedroom. You carelessly tossed it onto your bed and walked past your mirror, only to let out a mild shriek.

You spun around just as he hopped down from the window, and you pressed your hand to your chest. Your shoulders relaxed when he slid the mask from over his head, brown hair in disarray. Relief filled you, but you were still trembling as he approached you, grinning.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly told you, but you knew by the look on his face that he’d intended to scare you.

“So…its true,” you breathed, taking a step towards him.

You blinked as you took him in, hesitantly reaching out to touch the suit. His grin widened as he stepped closer, and you ran your hands along the fabric. It _felt_ the same, but it did _not_ look the same. The black was a contrast against his fair skin, and you found yourself thinking that it made him look older…more intimidating even.

“Do you like it…?”

“I…don’t know. It’s…different,” you honestly told him. “When did this happen? Why?”

He shrugged, dark eyes focused on your face.

“Just felt like a change,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

You noticed that he avoided the question of ‘when’, but you left it alone. You eyed him again, completely relaxing against him.

“It’s…nice.”

“Nice?”

You could see that your approval really meant a lot to him, so you took another moment to eye him again.

“Sexy,” you finally settled on.

His grin turned a bit cheeky, and his grip on you tightened.

“Sexy? Really?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “It makes you look more…menacing. Dangerous. Kind of like a bad boy.”

He kissed you, clearly liking the sound of that. He eventually pulled away with a chuckle, shaking his hair.

“Yeah, well, this bad boy needs a shower.”

You stopped him when he turned to leave, and he frowned down at you. You reached up, running your fingers underneath his eyes, studying him.

“About last night… Are you sure everything’s okay?”

He threw you a crooked smile before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I told you, I just got a bit overwhelmed. Wanna join me?” he asked, tilting his head towards the hall.

“Yeah…yeah, I will in a little bit.”

You watched as he left, frowning to yourself. You didn’t understand why you felt weird, but eventually wrote it off to the shock of the new suit. With a shake of your head, you moved to go join him in the shower.

He was washing his hair when you slid the shower curtain back. He looked over his shoulder with a smile, and you pressed your lips against his.

“How’s May?” you asked him, running your hands through his hair.

“Great. She wants us to come over next weekend,” he replied. “…but I have that exam to study for.”

“You should study, and we’ll just have fun without you,” you teased.

He shook his head, turning around to face you.

“You’ve been trying to replace me for years. I knew it,” he accused, kissing you.

“She’s always liked me better than you,” you murmured against his lips, moaning when he pressed you against the wall.

He parted his lips, digging his fingers into your skin as he leaned into you.

“Do you…do you really wanna talk about my aunt, right now?” he panted against your mouth.

You shook your head, gasping when he gripped the back of your thigh, hooking it around his waist. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of making love to Peter. You were each other’s firsts in every way possible, and he knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew how to touch you, the right buttons to press to make you sing for him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him as he trailed his lips along your shoulder. His hand was pressed into the wall beside your head, hips rolling against your own. He kept kissing you like it was for the first time, like he couldn’t get enough, but you weren’t complaining. You didn’t leave the bathroom until the steam was so thick that you could hardly see Peter’s face.

**.**

**.**

**.**

If you didn’t figure it out that first night, then it should’ve been that day after class. You had been walking out with one of your classmates, a guy named Matt that you often shared your notes with. Despite the fact that the last exam was only recently done, he had been freaking out about the next one. He had been hounding you about tutoring, and you, feeling annoyed and pressured, had agreed.

You caught Peter’s eye as you said your goodbyes, making your way over to him with a smile. He returned it, but it seemed strained, and you pulled away with a frown when he didn’t kiss you back. He was looking past you, brown eyes focused on something over your shoulder. You glanced back just in time to see Matt’s back as he rounded a corner.

“Who was that?” he had asked.

“Some guy in my class who was freaking out about the next exam,” you dismissively said, looping your arm through his. “He wants me to tutor him.”

You could hear the exasperation in your voice, and Peter did too. He eyed you, brows furrowed.

“You sound like you don’t want to…”

“Not…really,” you reluctantly admitted. “…but I feel bad for him. I don’t think he did so well on the last exam.”

“It sounds like a personal problem then,” he whispered.

“Peter!” you bumped his shoulder.

“I just don’t like that he’s pressuring you into helping him,” he said.

“He’s not! Not…really. He’s just worried-.”

“He’s just horny,” he interrupted.

You pulled him to a stop, and he wouldn’t look at you. You eyed him, taking in his clenched jaw and hard eyes before giggling. In all the time that you and Peter had been dating, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him jealous before.

“Peter Parker…are you jealous?”

He cut his eyes to you, and you couldn’t hold back your smile. You reached up to brush a rogue hair away from his forehead when he caught your hand in an iron grip. Your smile fell, and now it was your turn to frown.

“I’m serious, Y/N. If he’s pressuring you to tutor him who’s to say what else he’ll try to pressure you into?”

You swallowed, taking in the way his eyes softened as he gazed at you. He loosened his grip, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. 

“The guy just worries me,” he told you.

You blinked, eventually nodding.

“No, I get it. You’re right. I don’t even want to, and I shouldn’t just because I feel bad. I’ll tell him that I can’t tutor him,” you said with a small smile.

He returned it, placing a brief kiss on your lips before pulling you along. You frowned at the back of his head. In all the years you had known Peter, you had never known him to get jealous…not once. It just wasn’t in his nature…until now.

The days that followed were uneventful for the most part. Aside from newspapers rushing to get the next pic of “Spidey” in the new suit, things were relatively normal. You and Peter would go to class together, and the days that he didn’t have class, you’d wake up to the feel of his lips pressing soft kisses into your skin. On the weekend, you’d wake up to the smell of burning pancakes, and you’d rush into the kitchen to force Peter away from the stove despite his protests.

Everything was as it should be… So why did everything feel off?

You couldn’t put your finger on it until the first criminal ended up in the hospital. You had watched in shock as an ambulance carried the man away, barely clinging to life. Your eyes had traveled to the pool of blood his broken body had left behind, and you had frowned, fighting to correlate such violence with the masked hero everyone knew and loved.

By the time you got home, Peter was in the shower. Normally, you would have joined him, but you instead sat on the bed, waiting for him to emerge. He was completely at ease when he entered the room, unsurprised to see you as he rushed to press his lips against your cheek. As you watched him search the drawers for some bottoms, droplets of water cascading into the towel that was secured at his waist, you found that nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary.

“What was that today?” you quietly asked him.

He looked over his shoulder, confused.

“What was what?”

“Today! You nearly killed that man, Peter.”

He didn’t respond right away, shoulders rising and falling as he heaved a sigh.

“I know…I know…”

He sat down next to you, eyes troubled as you laid your hand on his shoulder.

“I didn’t…mean to lose control like that, I swear. It’s just… Y/N, if you knew what that man was capable of, you’d understand when I say it took everything in me to hold back,” he whispered.

“I do understand, but that’s never been _you_. Maybe you should leave those kinds of criminals to the police-.”

“…and maybe I shouldn’t,” he interrupted, voice hard as his eyes focused on your own.

“Peter,” you admonished with a frown.

“What good is it going to do? They get thrown in jail with a warm bed and food and that’s not nearly enough for some of these people,” he spat. “…and that’s if they’re even caught.”

“What if you’d killed that man tonight? You can’t play judge, jury, and executioner,” you told him.

You sighed when he pulled away from you, mumbling something you couldn’t make out. You eyed his back as he left, an odd feeling festering in your gut before you eventually shook it off. You didn’t hear him in the house when you eventually made your way to the bathroom, but he was there against the sink when you stepped out of the shower.

He pulled you into a hug, wrapping the large towel around your wet frame. He looked a bit sheepish as he tightened his arms around you.

“You’re right,” he eventually mumbled. “Some things I should leave to the cops…”

You smiled at him, pecking his lips as he lifted you.

“You like being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” you reminded him.

He grinned at you.

“Yeah…I do.”

And despite that, two days later, he was caught on camera nearly killing another criminal. ‘I just lost control’ was what he’d told you, the same words he’d uttered the first time it happened, and it was the same words he told you the 3rd and 4th time it happened too.

“You seem to be losing control a lot,” you had whispered.

He had walked away to go shower as if he hadn’t heard you, but you both knew that he did.

**.**

**.**

**.**

You blew on the steaming cup of tea, walking into the living room with a sigh. It was late, later than usual, and you were still waiting on Peter to come home. Your eyes strayed to the television, frowning at the passing headline and the reporter’s words.

**Spider-Man: Friend or Foe?**

With a scoff, you cut it off, shaking your head as you walked down the hall to the bedroom. The public, in true fashion, was starting to turn on Peter as easily as they had started to love him all those years ago. Your hands tightened on the mug. They only knew what they saw, but they didn’t know him. They didn’t know Peter.

You didn’t know what was going on with him lately, but you trusted Peter. You trusted that whatever was going on, he’d confide in you when the time was right. You had your own suspicions about that new suit of his. His change in demeanor coincided with the change in suit, and once again, you found yourself wondering where it had even come from.

You were pulled from your thoughts by a soft thud on the window behind you. You set your mug down, eyes widening as Peter practically fell through the window and into the bedroom. You ran over to him, helping him stand as his chest heaved, out of breath. He yanked the mask off of his head, and he gritted his teeth as you helped him lean against the wall.

“Peter, what happened?”

He was too busy trying to catch his breath to answer, sweat clinging to his face. He reached out to grip your arms, holding onto you as he fought to straighten himself.

“I almost had him,” he spat, eyes venomous.

“Who?” you whispered.

“I almost _had_ him!”

You jumped when he slammed his fist into the picture frame on the wall, glass tinkling as pieces fell to the floor. You reached for his hand, relieved to see that the suit wasn’t torn, but there was probably going to be some bruising beneath it.

“The cops in this city aren’t doing enough. They’re never doing _enough_.”

“Peter,” you whispered, resting your hands on his bruised face, brushing your thumb over the dark coloring under his eye. “You can’t catch them all.”

His eyes were tearful, full of frustration and anger as he glared at you before he looked away, jaw clenching.

“I can try,” he gritted out.

You sighed. Peter was always pushing himself, expecting much more of himself than what he was capable of. It broke your heart knowing that there wasn’t much you could do to make him feel better. You were sure those expectations for himself would always be there. You slid your hands down to his shoulders, careful to keep your touch light. You reached for the neck of his suit.

“Let’s get this suit off and then-.”

You swallowed your words when he harshly gripped your wrists, dark eyes coldly boring into your own.

“Don’t touch my suit.”

You swallowed, taken aback by the tone in his voice.

“I just want to help you in the shower. I think you need to rest, Peter,” you whispered.

He didn’t let go of you as he took a step forward.

“I don’t want to rest,” he quietly replied. “Not right now…”

A shiver ran down your spine as he looked down his nose at you, eyes trailing down your frame before his gaze slowly rose to meet your own. You swallowed.

“Peter…”

He leaned in, slamming his lips against yours. You gasped into his mouth, unable to do anything other than back up as he pushed you. You winced when your back met the mirror, and you heard it crack, but Peter paid it no mind. He was too focused on ridding you of your clothes.

The sound of tearing fabric filled your ears, and Peter’s uncharacteristic behavior should’ve scared you. After all, he was the sweetest in bed, always had been. He was never rough with you, but his grip on your waist was borderline painful. The feel of his fingers digging into you made you wince, but you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach buzzed as he pressed himself against you.

You whimpered into his mouth when he spun you around, back hitting the mattress soon after. His bare chest brushed against yours, lips harshly pressing into your skin now as he dragged his fingers down your legs, hooking them around his waist. You didn’t even remember him slipping out of his suit. He was almost frantic as he lined himself up with you, tension in every muscle as he slammed into you.

You threw your head back with a yelp, nails leaving red trails down his arms. His teeth were rough as they nipped at you, causing you to simultaneously wince and moan. His hands never stayed in one place for long, like he couldn’t get enough of you, and it was driving you crazy. The bed shook from the force of his thrusts, and your toes curled as you fought to make sense of what was going on.

No, rough sex wasn’t your thing at all. It wasn’t Peter’s either, but the way he gripped you and handled you, moving you into whatever position suited him, did something to you that you couldn’t explain. His eyes were dark and determined, centered on one thing only. It was almost like you were an afterthought, like you were simply there to ease his frustrations, his anger. He was simply using your body, pinning your hands down and snapping his hips against yours, and for some reason, it stroked a fire inside of you.

“Peter,” you gasped, pushing against his hands.

He only tightened his grip, face taught with tension as he pushed his cock into you over and over again. Your core squelched around his length, the wettest you’d ever been, and you knew that you were going to make a mess of the sheets. His chest was heaving as he fought to hold himself over you, hips pinning yours to the bed with every thrust. His teeth were clenched, eyes hard as he stared at you, but they were empty. They looked at you, but they weren’t seeing you. His mind was somewhere else entirely.

With a whine, you came around him, so hard that your legs shook, but Peter wasn’t done. He fucked you through your high. For how long, you didn’t know, but long enough that you tumbled over the edge again, incomprehensible noises leaving your lips. Your wrists were sore by now, and your thighs faired no better from the force of Peter slamming into them. You were begging for some kind of relief when your stomach clenched again, and you got it when Peter finally came, fucking his cum into you as he groaned.

You both were out of breath, and you were on the verge of passing out. His breath was labored in your ear, and your eyes rolled back, slipping into darkness with the feel of his hands on your wrists and his softening cock still inside of you.

.

.

.

You winced as you reached back, wiping off what dried blood you could reach as you looked over your shoulder into the mirror. You had hoped the shower would do the trick, but you had accidentally reopened the shallow wounds. Your hands were trembling as you threw the tissue into the garbage, sniffling.

You woke up alone this morning. Alone, cold, and feeling like you’d just been hit by a garbage truck. You had almost believed that your memory was playing tricks on you if it hadn’t been for the broken mirror and the bloody sheets, courtesy of the cuts in your back. Peter was nowhere to be found. You couldn’t really make much sense of last night, and as you had looked around your messy bedroom, your worry for Peter grew.

You decided to skip out on class. You had a perfect attendance and missing one day wasn’t going to hurt you. You decided instead to go to the store. You were low on groceries, and you also wanted to get some painkillers. You tried not to let Peter and his whereabouts cloud your mind, but you couldn’t help it.

Sometimes when he didn’t get enough rest, he’d go into what you both called ‘sensory overload’. He’d get overwhelmed, agitated, but last night went far beyond that. Despite the fact that you enjoyed yourself in the end, that wasn’t like Peter at all. You debated on whether or not to call May. Surely, she watched the news and read the paper, kept up with Peter as much as she could. You wondered what she thought of his increasingly violent behavior towards petty criminals?

The apartment was still empty when you returned, and after you’d put up the groceries and taken some Advil, you made the decision to go see May. You sent Peter a quick text and hoped that he’d be back by the time you returned. You were immediately uncomfortable the minute you stepped onto the bus, bombarded by newspapers with none other than Peter on the front page.

You rested your eyes on the ceiling of the bus with a small sigh. Before you had been able to say that none of them knew him, that they only knew what they saw and that what they saw wasn’t him. You could say that you knew Peter, but after last night, you wondered if you were just as clueless as the masses.

When you got to May’s apartment, she wasn’t home. It was kind of your own fault really. You hadn’t called or texted to let her know you were coming over, and as much as Peter probably wished she didn’t sometimes, May did have a life. There was no telling where she was. When you exited the building, it was getting dark outside.

You wanted to hurry back. While you were sure no one would try anything with the new scary Spider-Man swinging around, you still didn’t want to chance it. The sidewalks were still bustling with people on the way back, and you heard Peter’s alias thrown around in conversation here and there, making you wince for more reasons than one.

You were nearing the alley next to your complex when you first heard it. It was a groan, so faint that you almost missed it, but it sounded like someone was in pain. Hardly anyone was around, and you only stopped when you heard them curse, the voice all too familiar. Against your better judgement, you entered the dark alley, the expletives growing louder the closer you got.

You winced when you heard an almost inhuman shriek, a sound so terrifying you could hardly describe it. You heard them groan in pain again, frustration coating their tone as they cursed. You were horrified to find that your suspicions had been right.

Peter was at the end of the alley, hunched over in front of the gate as he seemed to be fighting…with his _suit_. He tore at it, the ripping sound reaching your ears, but each attempt was futile. You watched as the suit continued to piece itself back together each time, latching onto his skin with a vengeance.

“Peter,” you gasped.

His head shot up, wide eyes connecting with yours for a brief second as he tore the fabric away from his face before it stitched itself back together again. He was protesting when you collapsed beside him, knees harshly hitting the pavement as you reached out to help him. You didn’t get the chance to.

The wind was knocked out of you as he pushed you back, pressing himself even further against the fence as he shook his head at you.

“No, Y/N-! Fuck,” he hissed, tearing at the black garb in frustration. “Don’t touch it.”

“Peter, let me…let me help you or-or at least call someone-!”

“Y/N, go! Now,” he screamed.

You watched in horror as he pulled at the suit, fingers scraping against his chest as he did so. It was like it was alive, tiny black hands reaching out to wrap around him again and again. You reached for him again, but he leapt out of your reach, crawling up the side of the building before swinging over the top.

Tears filled your eyes as you watched him go. You didn’t know what to do, but you called May and left her a message. You weren’t even sure of what to say, how to describe what you just witnessed, but you let her know you’d appreciate a call back as soon as possible. That Peter was in trouble.

You waited in the apartment lobby for hours, staring at the door, willing Peter to walk through any second. It was beyond late when you accepted that he wasn’t going to walk through those doors anytime soon, and you were reluctant in making your way upstairs, praying that he was okay the whole way up there.

You cried in the shower, terrified to realize that your suspicions had been right. You knew something had been wrong that first night. You knew it! And yet…you had written yourself off as paranoid. The bed was cold when you eventually slipped under the covers, staring at the window for God knows how long.

You didn’t know when sleep finally claimed you, but you were woken up by the feel of the bed sinking, a featherlight touch on your arm. You hummed, finally blinking your eyes open when a finger ghosted over your bottom lip.

“Peter…?”

Your vision cleared, and your eyes widened at the familiar face. You threw your arms around him, and he sat up, holding you to him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Tears of relief kissed your eyes as you pressed your lips to his cheek, breathing him in as he did the same to you.

“Oh, thank God! I was so worried. I thought-I thought that-.”

He shushed you, pulling away to wipe your face. You kissed him, and he kissed you back, hands digging into your skin.

“I knew something wasn’t right about that suit,” you whispered into his mouth. “Tell me you got rid of it…?”

He nodded, and you sighed in relief.

“I did. I got it off,” he told you, kissing you again. “I took care of it.”

You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, relieved to know that he was safe. He parted his lips, pressing his tongue into your mouth as he started to push you back. You placed a hand on his chest, shaking your head.

“Peter…my back…its-.”

He didn’t allow you to finish, instead pulling you into his lap as he sat up against the headboard. He made quick work of releasing himself, sliding you onto him with a groan. You hissed into his mouth, hands pressing into his shoulders. Your lips didn’t leave his skin for a second, paranoia still flowing through you as he moved your hips against his, but he was safe and in your arms.

You didn’t think anything of it as he tore your t-shirt off of you, the aggressiveness of the action flying right over your head. Your mind didn’t register the way his fingers harshly scraped against your skin, too filled with relief that he was okay. You didn’t second guess when his teeth sank into you so deep, they drew blood. You only knew that you came around him twice that night, both times with his hand tightening around your neck.


End file.
